


Abreaction

by cledritch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Heartache, Hopeful Ending, Hurts So Good, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Memories, Past Lives, Pining, The Song of Achilles Allusions, Visions, mention of past character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cledritch/pseuds/cledritch
Summary: He was made of memories, past and present that didn't change the fact that he would still follow him to the ends of the world.Even if he was the only carrying the past and reliving them in his dreams every day of his life.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frapucinno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frapucinno/gifts).



> This fic was in the making for a long time and I really doubted my ability to give justice to it the very first time I was told about it on the first week of September last year. I didn't even think I could finish this and even abandoned it for a while when I went to take a break for some time from social media. It took me two months to make this, so much sleep sacrificed and so much whining to myself that I want it to end already but I'm glad I didn't rush.
> 
> Shoutout to the people who made this possible: the gc who always give me joy and peace of mind to settle my thoughts in the middle of the night, Amber who unknowingly ignited my passion for this when I was lost and my lovely beta Bea whose encouragement and advice made this possible.  
> But most importantly, to Ninda, who gave me this prompt out of nowhere and I know it's long overdue but take it as birthday gift from me to you ^^
> 
> Enjoy and tell me your thoughts!

They came in flashes.

Just vividly moving pictures at the back of his eyes when he’s curled asleep in his room, noise pushed to the back of his mind to listen in on what they entailed. He’s still too young to understand what they meant, believing they are fragments from a picture book his mama read to him before he went to sleep.

He’s there but he also isn’t. Like a bystander pretending to look in on the scene even when there’s something familiar about it that tugs harder on his heartstrings.

Can he call them dreams? Dreams were supposed to be about something fun, like race cars, or superheroes that represented the things he was interested at that age.

But he’s stares down as someone with black hair and tan skin looking in on the arena from above where he is sitting with who appears to be his father, a short but built man who is sneering at him as they watch the other men and boys competing in games in this setting that is too complex for his young brain to conjure on his own. He sees the boy’s head turn to one of the boys in the arena, different if it was by the blonde hair and the circlet glinting in the sunlight, running past the man fast that there is no competition and he wins just as easily.

The golden-haired boy receives a garland that is crowned on his head, lightness of his hair contrasting and he can hear the man, sneering down as he turns over the boy.

“That is what a son should be.” His disappointment is obvious.

Sicheng wakes up before he could see the boy’s face, ducked down from shame and the heaviness of his father’s words.

The ache of familiarity stays.

…

Sicheng likes to believe that he’s lived a fulfilling life even if was more sheltered than most children his age. His parents were loving and kind, always with him every step of the way, and his older sister would encourage him to pursue his interests no matter how small they were.

He learns Traditional Chinese dancing when he’s ten, he dreams of travelling to New Zealand with his sister so he can take in the sights and he is always given expensive things if they could afford it. They weren’t that rich but they were well-off enough that Sicheng could understand that despite all the finer things in life that’s thrown on his lap, his heart is still yearning for something.

It’s an odd feeling of emptiness, the hole a shape of a silhouette that he still doesn’t understand. He looks up to the sky a lot as if to ask it what that something is and he never comes up with an answer.

His sister says he might need excitement elsewhere.

He doesn’t think it’s excitement that he needs.

…

He chooses to go to South Korea to pursue the offer that SM gives him.

They scout because of the skill he developed over the years with his Traditional Dance that they approached him outside of his school out of the blue. His classmates whisper amongst themselves when the well-dressed man hands Sicheng a card that had the company’s logo on it.

It’s a good company, in terms of sales and popularity with the title as one of the Big Three that ruled over South Korea’s talent agencies. But Sicheng is not dumb enough to not know about the scandals, the lawsuits and the things he knows he needs to endure the moment he makes this decision.

His intuition tells him he won’t regret it but then again, regret is going to be the least of his problems the moment he signs himself over. It’s not a walk in the park. Still, he wants to follow the intuition that something is waiting for him there.

His mother cried for some time, scared of sending him off to a place he doesn’t even know the language of, tearfully asked him to change his mind. His father gave him a look that he didn’t know what he was thinking but he’s torn between letting him go and scolding him for acting rashly. His sister just hugs him and really, it’s probably what he needed.

The night before he leaves China, he dreams.

This time, he’s staring into the gathered men holding out their wrists marked with blood and ash. The hall looks extravagant with people, tapestries hung high on columns and the benches draped with cowhide.

He sees the same boy from the first dream cowering behind an older man who doesn’t look back as he storms outside and everyone is leaving as well. He follows them, outside where the boy climbs the donkey and looking back-

Sicheng’s own face looks back at him, no, not at him. It’s looking back at the building.

He looks terrified, disappointed mingling with a tinge of panic when he catches an older man’s gaze. It’s the same look a son has, knowing well that he’s going to end up with a useless son that will bring him nothing but humiliation.

Static blurs his surroundings and he’s staring down at blood in his hands. Blink once and twice but it comes and goes every time he lets it escape his sight, using darkness to pretend he can calm his frantic heart. He’s lying down facing a body with a crack on their skull reaching out to him with pale fingers, trying to make a grab at his throat and the pungent smell of death envelops him.

He wakes up drenched in cold sweat and it’s already morning.

…

The adjustment period was rushed.

He has to debut after just a year of training, something he doesn’t understand.

He tries his best to go through with it in his broken Korean and he works harder that he ends up overworking himself. Because dancing took his mind off of things, doesn’t let the dreams corrode his memories that he can’t discern them from the reality in front of his eyes.

He thinks he’s listening to someone playing the lyre in a garden under a harsh sunlight bearing down his back, admiring someone as they brandished their sword and the telltale feeling of adoration that he’d stop his step midway into a kick to hold his chest to reassure his too fast heartbeat. Envy, anger, resentment, regret, _regret-_

Then it melts into resignation that lets him feel the worry and the care he doesn’t even understand.

Sicheng doesn’t have time to entertain the dreams, sleep deprivation only seems to intensify them but he steels himself and practices.

Again and again, he practices.

Otherwise, there is that tinkling laughter like honey that breezes past his ear like a wisp of the past he doesn’t know if he welcomes.

…

Meeting Lee Taeyong felt like a freight train hitting him head onto his face.

He’s debuting for NCT 127 and only after a year of training that his tongue still doesn’t curl around syllables that well he has to keep himself quiet. But he has to shoot for something called NCT Life, this time in Seoul so he can get closer with the other members.

He and Kun might be close now because they shared the nationality and he doesn’t know how he’d survive without his _gege_ there to ease the nerves. He’s more comfortable with the elder that he told him about the dreams, just to help him cope and no longer explain why he suddenly jolts up in the middle of the night.

“Don’t you think that maybe these dreams aren’t dreams?” Kun would ask as they huddled together because Sicheng is shaking one night on the intensity of the images he sees punctuated that he was staring down at his dead body encased in armor with blood pooling around him.

Sicheng would always shake his head.

It’s a damn shame they don’t get to partner up for this outing, something about Chinese members learning from the ones who are better in Korean than them and making them feel more comfortable with each other. Sicheng is instructed to sit down on a white sofa holding the red spool of yarn and he bids goodbye to Kun who is seated in another room across the hall with his own blue spool of yarn.

Red like in his dreams.

A game of chance. Sicheng never cares about this type of thing and he waits patiently.

“Winwin!”

There’s a protest from the other person that had chosen the blue yarn and Sicheng looks over his shoulder to see the person who’s going to be his teammate.

His grip loosens on the yarn he has wrapped on his pinky.

Sicheng has heard of Lee Taeyong before. He’s the leader of NCT’s first unit, NCT U and well-known for his rapping and dancing that he doesn’t hesitate to listen to the songs when it was recommended after he watched the Chinese Version of Without U. Everyone on the web would talk about him being a candidate on being SM’s golden boy alongside the younger Mark Lee and it’s made Sicheng curious.

Nothing could prepare you for staring into a face that looked like it was made from carved marble. His jaw is sharp, his skin undisturbed by flaws from where he can see and eyes that crinkled into crescents as if to ease the anxiety in him. The dyed white hair is fading lilac in the ends, the pastel that compliments his skin only succeeding to make him look otherworldly. Taeyong doesn’t belong here, he’s too different to be part of this world that he might as well vanish if Sicheng so as much blinked.  He looks intense with the way he stares at him for a minute, flashing him a smile and Sicheng’s breath is lodged in his throat that he stands up. Taeyong gives his hand a shake before pulling him to bump their shoulders and Sicheng blurts the first thing he can think of.

“Are you mine?”

Taeyong doesn’t blink and only smiles wider.

 “Yes, I’m yours.”  His eyes are dark, almost twinkling and Sicheng is afraid of the constellations that he’s conjuring in his head to match every light in them.

The words stirred his heartbeat, little pattering turning to thunderous thumps that echoed in his ears and he hid the sharp intake of breath by parting his lips in time for his smile to overtake his mouth.

The visions worsen after that.

Sicheng would wake up with a headache that made him feel like vomiting, nails raking right on his every nerve with their jagged tips and he starts seeing things that make less sense than when he’s asleep.

Long hair, yellow like the sun tied with a leather band. Muscles that stretched whenever they moved with their spear being jabbed into air and the straps of his armor fastened as he watched him prepare for the war.

Sicheng looked down at his hands, flushed red and wet before he looked up through his dripping bangs to see Taeyong with water streaming down his long hair that he watched trail down his arms.

Wait, what? He blinks away the drop that gets caught in his eyes and he stares into his ceiling, bleary-eyed.

Warmth envelopes him even when he kicks off the blanket and the AC is on full blast.

…

It’s jarring to have Taeyong as the kind leader he is.

Reminiscent of the person that Sicheng sees every night when he even as much as lose his focus for a minute, there’s regality to Taeyong that he wants to copy but could never. The way he speaks over the maknaes in a manner that is more of an old man than a twenty-two year old, carries the burden of the group he has to check on them every time he thinks there could be a strain to the dynamic and he’s nothing but patient in teaching Sicheng to grasp the language. Taeyong is wiser than he is given credit for except he doesn’t use words to show them and lets his actions dictate it.

Sicheng sees the strength inside him. He sees the way that he’s modest even when everyone is praising him for all his hard work and the vulnerability he holds when mistakes he supposedly made are brought up just so they couldn’t debut. Sicheng was sure that despite how everyone paints Taeyong as the bad guy, he was like the rest of them: trying to survive the trials the path they chose for themselves as long as they could. People will always be critical when you’re climbing to the top of the social ladder, when your success is clearer than day that they want to poison the air with any accusation they can fan to pollute all the hard work that they have done.

Sicheng wishes that his dreams influenced the warmth that seeped into his entire face when Taeyong gave him reassurance.

But then again, developing feelings for Taeyong was so easy when he’s been nothing but a kind and wonderful person who didn’t stop to think of what he might gain. Perhaps there might be some underlying motive yet Sicheng found that it’s often for everybody’s benefit.

“Have you eaten yet?” Taeyong would ask him, eyes open for rejection but he looked like he knew the other wouldn’t refuse and Sicheng would smile, looking down at the remnants of the ice cream that Taeyong brought him.

Sicheng would nod and Taeyong’s smile is only making his headaches worse that it blurs into the image of him just like the one that holds him in the visions that occupy his sleep.

Soft touches of a hand around his wrist or guiding him on his back that didn’t feel any less real.

…

Perhaps he shouldn’t have lingered.

He always chalks it up to the awe that settles in his chest when Taeyong is in sight doing the things he does best. When they practice, Sicheng’s eyes are drawn to Taeyong’s form every time he executes a dance move hiding under the pretense of wanting to learn the move so he can catch up. Taeyong is fluid, movements sharp enough it hit the music they set up and Sicheng’s captivated.  When they’re in the safety of their dorm room, he finds that being near Taeyong sent electricity down his spine that he’s afraid of touching him lest a spark ignites. He’d always side step out of the way, blushing and lowering his head down before he’d make a hasty apology in his limited Korean.

Sicheng would clutch his shirt and feel smaller than he actually is when Taeyong looks at him by passing.

Why does he feel like crying when Taeyong isn’t near? It’s like he’s afraid of something that hasn’t happened yet and every part of him wants to make sure it never does as long as he is close to Taeyong.

His dreams are about claiming back something that was lost, him wearing armor and breathing deeply to ease the fear that’s pulsing in his veins.

There was no malice in his choice, for the sake of the one he cared for, the one he grew up with and knowing parts of him that he couldn’t bear to think all the ideals pressed on him would be for naught. He can’t find another way to help the men that have been deemed unworthy of saving and if it meant, being out there in a battlefield he didn’t belong, he would do it. All for _his_ sake. Men were dying, all around him as the flames ran amok that he can’t tell if the warmth is from them or the tears that are stinging his eyes. The ships were burning and there is so much blood from the attack that he doesn’t even think to run back to tell it.

If he doesn’t want to fight them, then Sicheng will take his place.

There is not much fight in him because he was not born for this but he looks at the man before him, weary and seeing nothing to gain from helping those who shamed him. He raises his hand, lips pressed together as he stares straight into his eyes.

“Swear to me that if you go, you will not fight them.”

It was an easy request that he complies, finally managing to find a way to get through his pride and fury that he had built up inside him. Sicheng knows he can save so many this way and save Taeyong-he pauses, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up with a promise to only frighten them. This was not his name here. He was not Taeyong here.

Led to the men, their eyes shining with hope to see shoulders heavy from the anticipation and the armor he wore that would make not make him who he is. He knew the armor like his hands, the helmet’s crest, silvered sword hanging from the waist and the baldric of hammered gold.

It would take a fool for anyone to not recognize it. It was unmistakable and Sicheng feels the lump on his throat.

He’s warned, don’t leave the chariot and don’t throw his spears. There is a great disparity in their skill and if he even tried, it would be given away he was not the one they believe he would be.

“I will be alright.” He tells him, arranging himself into the chariot as he listens to Taeyong tell the men to bring him back to him when it was over.

The adrenaline could have been to blame, the thrill as he let out an angered cry to the men who looked at him in shock and joy that finally, finally it was their savior. Perhaps the armor molded him, all those years watching him fight did he not hesitate to throw a spear to hit a Trojan right at their breast. He doesn’t see if he was dead, ignores the way that someone is looking at him to warn him of what he promised but he throws another spear, another dead as the men scream.

There is a son of Zeus that comes and despite being no one who is gifted with skill, he hits him with his spear that he could step back with his weight tipping the chariot that it sends him tumbling. He holds the hilt of his sword, fear pumping through his veins waiting for retaliation but his head has snapped.

It is not enough.

Even with the taste of blood in his mouth, death creeping closer like it’s waiting for him to make the last fatal mistake before it took him away, he looks up to the city of Troy and the thought of its fall is something he can’t let go. They deserve losing it, deserve it for the ten years they lost and how- static comes to his mind- will die.

There is a strangeness that comes with this, snapshots moving too fast for him to connect but the pain from the spear piercing his skin, the way that his helmet is removed from his head to reveal he isn’t the hero they had thought he had been by his armor and the looming dread that Hector is going to kill him.

The thoughts that came as the man walks closer to him without looking elsewhere as if he knew exactly what he was going to do. Sicheng’s breathing is ragged, head pounding as blood is spilling from his wound while he thinks about what happens after this. Remembering the consequence if he were to kill him, the echo of a soft voice, then he knew that Hector will not be set free alive if he kills him and Sicheng knew that no one can help him now, not these men who are looking at the prince as Hector marches towards him.

There is no safety for him even when he tries feebly to stop the spear from piercing him, red dripping from the wounds that is cut before searing pain knocks his breath out, the agony of having the tip of the spear plunged into his stomach.

His head is swimming in bursts of color that he is afraid that this is real, that he is really dying with Hector looking over him twisting the spear deeper inside his stomach like he was doing something so simple. Sicheng feels himself panic, because he feels himself moving but not right now, not where he is laid on the ground dead with his blood splattered on the ground and the last thing that rings in his mind, both as he finally leaves the living and wakes up in cold sweat that he fell off his bed head first was a name.

_Achilles._


	2. Of

Sicheng doesn’t even try to hide he’s avoiding Taeyong.

It’s a strange thing, really. He’s so used to being next to the elder, waiting to be helped with his Korean pronunciation and treated like he was a child that needed to be taught how to do things slowly. That’s how it’s been since NCT Life in Seoul, in their debut as NCT 127 and the fan signs they go through with everyone feeling like he always needed help. He doesn’t mean for it to happen because they come to him in their own volition and he doesn’t refuse help when he sees it. That’s why Yuta is often there to coddle him, less noticeable because of Taeyong’s efforts and he will admit that having Yuta with an arm around his shoulder as they walked under the same umbrella with hands both clasped on the handle that it didn’t feel the same.

His heart is calm, his head clear and Sicheng doesn’t understand.

Taeil, his roommate, always made sure he brushed. Mark wouldn’t speak much to him but he’d help if he saw that Sicheng would struggle with a word or two despite their natural language barrier where both parties still aren’t that fluent in Korean and even Jaehyun who he has grown to be attached to the hip too because they were the same age. Donghyuck would try to tease him but it’s just all harmless fun between them that Sicheng could feel at ease with his group members.

But no one drew him in more than Taeyong and it was unnerving.

It’s like looking down from high places, the pit of your stomach doing flips because you know if you feel you’d get hurt and every instinct inside you is telling you to leave. But the sight of the deep plunge, the way it’s so high up and you’re wondering what it feels like just falling, calling to you to just let yourself go. It’s magnetizing but you always reel back in time to dismiss the feeling until you’re faced with it once more.

Sicheng knew. He knew that he was only biding time because he’s still so attracted to Taeyong despite always making sure they didn’t go beyond common courtesy, unlike before that he’d make way to go to him because he knew Taeyong couldn’t refuse him. His heart aches inside his chest, little thumps that were more painful than comforting when he lays his hand over it when he’s lying awake to escape the next visions that make it hard for him to snap back to reality.

How Taeyong slips into this is a thought he doesn’t entertain.

He sees lilac hair in his dreams, a smile that leaves him breathless and the courage of having his destiny laid down to him by the gods while Sicheng runs away from death to be embraced by it in the end. There is no certainty he can differentiate who is who when they share the same soul.

The regret comes back and Sicheng yearns for that smile again.

…

Ten is special.

Sicheng won’t deny that. The Thai male knew Taeyong longer, spent their time longer acting like an old married couple to the cameras as they laughed at each other’s jokes and walked hand in hand at the male with cameras surrounding them. Sicheng knew Ten was wonderful, a good hyung who had never hesitated to grab him by the shoulder to take a photo and greet him with so much enthusiasm he can’t help but blush at the intensity of it. He’s well-liked by everyone and Sicheng can see it, in everyone’s eyes and in Taeyong’s.

Except there is a snake coiling in his stomach made from jealousy, bitter and dark that makes the restless nights worse because he can’t think straight with the voices that now accompany his visions.

Sicheng finds jealousy stupid. He doesn’t have any right to feel like he’s being robbed of Taeyong’s attention because it was always going to be temporary anyways. Sicheng is not a child, he’s nineteen and he can survive on his own without anyone holding his hand through his life.

It’s not only Ten who is special anyways. Taeyong is the leader, he is in charge of every member and it’s only an illusion to think he should have priority because how selfish can he be?

Sicheng is strong. He can forget that his throat clogs with words he can’t blurt out when he sees Taeyong move on from member to member, especially the members he had known longer back to the trainee days that Sicheng can’t hold a candle to the bond they shared. Selfishness meant being a brat, acting like he should have all of Taeyong’s attention when he hasn’t even earned his keep.

“Sicheng-ah, you can always tell any of us if something is wrong.  We’re worried.” Taeil once said to him when he didn’t speak a word the whole day, eating and sleeping for the most part with only little nods to answer everyone who asked him if he was fine. Yuta offered to have some Korean lesson brush ups with him to occupy Sicheng but he didn’t want to have his head split open trying to memorize.

Quiet is all he asks for.

But sometimes, the world always likes to give him the opposite.

He lays on his bed, bleary-eyed with tear tracks drying on his cheeks after his parents called him to ask about how he was doing and that he should visit home during the holidays. It usually takes a lot for him to break down but the tone his mother used as he said that he might not be allowed is hitting his heartstrings like a hammer and his father says in less enthusiastic voice that they will wait.

“We’re proud of you, son. We’ll always be cheering on you even if you’re away.”

He sobbed the moment he knew Taeil was too knocked out to hear him, chest filled with the homesickness he brushed off for so long and he misses his family. They were better, they cared for him and they loved him so much they let him do what he wanted without putting up a fight.

A niggling thought brushes his mind, a voice filled with venom and authority that makes him stand up and his feet brushes sand instead of the cold wooden floor of their dorm. The sound of the waves echo in his ears that he stares into the sea that encompasses in front of him, the half full moon sending a bath of light enough for him to see and he shivers despite the warmth of the wind brushing against his ear.

He stares into a tall, beautiful woman staring down at him so much disgust he feels his shoulder cave in from the intensity of her gaze. It’s similar to Taeyong’s but also not, filled with something so malevolent that his breath caught in his throat for a different reason: fear.  She’s making it hard for him to breathe, smelling like seaweed and honey that he suffocates in it even when he hasn’t even tried to make a sound.

“You are-” the last half of her sentence turns to static in his ears that he gritted his teeth to stop the scream from erupting. She sounds like the angry grind of rocks on the surf that it didn’t match the ethereal face, all pale and luminous in the moonlight with her ink black hair down her back.

He doesn’t hear himself reply because his mouth moves but no sound comes out and she kept looking at him like she had decided he was not worth her presence, drawing this meeting longer was useless.  Eyes black but the flecks of gold standing out like the stars, just like the ones Sicheng sees in Taeyong’s-

“He will be a god.”

Sicheng blinks as he sees still images for a split second, warning him she doesn’t like to wait. It’s a blur of white mingling with yellow and the tunic hanging over a well-built body being readied for war and Sicheng thinks of a name that turns to another that has been filling him with emotions he knew he shouldn’t feel. Not without knowing how much he was unworthy of Taeyong who has his stars laid out for him the moment he was born.

“Do you understand?”

Why is Taeyong filling his mind?

“Do you understand?”

Why is he still haunted by him here? He looks up enough not to meet her eyes but the gash she has as a mouth, blood red that made her razor teeth whiter behind it.  He’s afraid. He opens his mouth to answer but she speaks again with her breath brushing against his breath as cold as the sea and says-

_“You’ll be dead soon enough.”_

“-Winwin? What are you doing awake at this hour?”

Sicheng collapses to his knees, the coldness of the shower raining down on him now prickling his skin and he looked over his shoulder through his wet bangs plastered over his eyes. Jaehyun is squinting at him as he rubs his eyes, probably just woken up from sleep to use the bathroom. He looks at Sicheng as if he wants to slap him awake too with how he is acting.

Sicheng can finally breath, gasping like he’s been deprived of air for so long and his heartbeat is too loud in his ears that he places his palms over them in a clumsy attempt to quiet it down. Jaehyun furrows his brows, grabbing a towel to wrap around Sicheng’s wet form with a questioning look as the latter doesn’t do anything but stare at him with wild eyes.

“Are you okay, Winwin? Do you need me to call Taeyong-“

There’s an echo in his ears that surges over his heart beat and he panics, shaking his head wildly with his hands pushing Jaehyun away and he rushes into his room without listening to the other’s calls of his name. His ears still have the sound of Taeyong’s voice that is laced with venom as he spat out that Sicheng was going to die anyway.

…

“Winwin-ah.”

Sicheng freezes halfway from taking the ice cream tub from the fridge with eyes glued to the rows of rice cake containers and vegetables inside and wills himself to not start hyperventilating.  He raises his head, Taeyong’s worried face meeting his gaze that he gulps out of the weight that clogs his throat at the sight of him.

“Yes, hyung?”

A flash of resignation passes through Taeyong’s face as he takes in Sicheng’s hollow tone and he moves closer to possibly place a hand on his shoulder to comfort him like he usually did during times he seems to perceive there was a problem bothering Sicheng.

Sicheng takes a step backward the moment he felt like Taeyong would raise his hand to do so and he lowers his head to avoid the slight hurt in the elder’s eyes. He doesn’t want to see the frown accompanying on his face to mar the smile that he has grown to love so much.

“Is anything wrong? You’ve been acting off for awhile…” He trails off with his mouth parted, eyes shifting to find the right words that won’t make Sicheng run. He can see Taeyong take in the way he was holding his arms to protect himself, shaking like a leaf and not even polite enough to meet his gaze.

 It’s the same Sicheng who didn’t know anyone from the boys who would become his group mates that he has to make friends with throughout the period of time he has to spend with them promoting. It’s the same withdrawn Chinese boy who could barely understand Korean, withdrawn from everyone but Kun who treated him more of a co-worker then than a friend.  Taeyong doesn’t know how to approach this Sicheng who looked too much like a wounded animal “…are you fine?”

“No,” he lies, tongue like lead but he maintains the blankness of his face as best he can “And yes, hyung. Don’t worry about me.”

Taeyong raises a brow at his cryptic answer, unsure which Sicheng meant more and he opens his mouth to say so yet closes it the moment Sicheng moves so that his body is facing away from him. His feet are poised to the door, past Taeyong that he looks ready to run away from this situation. There is a limit to things Sicheng understands and this was one of them, the need to jump the bridge to avoid the collision that his only response is to run. But it doesn’t feel right when his legs refuse to move.

“Winwin, I don’t know what’s in your head. But if it affects our group, I need to know. You’re not like this.”

“What do you know what I’m like?” Sicheng snaps without any hesitation, jaw hanging when he realizes what he just said and shakes his head “I’m sorry for the disrespect, hyung.” He mumbles quietly because he doesn’t want to start a fight when his head is starting to hurt just being so near him.

Sicheng doesn’t want to leave him again. Why is that thought sticking to his head like background noise he can’t wipe off?  They are nothing to each other but friends, too distant to be considered the best of and he knows enough that Taeyong takes care of him because he thinks Sicheng can’t do anything on his own yet. It’s nothing but how Taeyong is and Sicheng hates how he can’t brush it off like he meant to the first time he realized it, looking over to where Taeyong has an arm around Jaehyun to help him up when he fell off the couch from laughing so much. He’s seen Taeyong feed every one of them when they all were hungry after a hard day’s promoting.

He can’t leave him again when he never stayed in the first place.

Fear tastes like acid when it settles in his tongue and he looks up to see Taeyong’s furrowed brows, waiting for him to say something. He stares over that wrinkle of his forehead, to the curve of his jaw that dips into the lines of his neck that he always had the urge to hide his face into. Taeyong reminds him of coming home after being away for so long, not quite like going back to China but close enough that he can let his heart wind down after the heaviness of the day settles. 

Sicheng finds nothing wrong with wanting, he’s long accepted he might have something for men but the thought of wanting _Taeyong_ sends his heart in frenzy that it suffocates him inside out. It’s like seeking the sun after so many months of winter’s cold blanketing the surroundings in bleak white snow, searching for that light against the troubled sky.

It brings him back to summer, the sun on his back as they stared on the beach with Taeyong beside him.

He doesn’t know how it happened.

He smells Febreeze, cloying from overuse that his nose stings from the scent of it then the generic shampoo they all used in the dorm because it was easier. Soft to the senses like natural oils that he can’t put his finger on, it reminds him of a long time ago when he was bombarded with pomegranates and sandalwood mingling with other scents that reminds him of Taeyong. The scent he carries when he’s just freshly roused from bed, tendrils of sleep clinging to him and Sicheng is half-asleep to even comprehend why he smelled good. Strong but not that much that was sweet enough he can bask in it.

He’s lost in the blurry images that converge together but he can feel Taeyong’s gaze, filled with confusion but he doesn’t pry knowing how sensitive Sicheng can be when he is forced to open up. His eyes catch the elder’s, dark and warm against features sharp like a knife but when he smiles to comfort him from whatever turmoil is rushing in his head, there is a softness that he knew was impossible to match.

Taeyong waits for what Sicheng is about to do.

Sicheng didn’t know where in God’s name he pulled courage out of that he leaned over to press his lips clumsily on his.

He’s never kissed anyone before, not enough time to play around when he was too shy to approach girls and guys alike and preferred to keep to his own space. Maybe there was a deeper reason why though, he muses. It’s different to have his lips on another, plush and warm that it sends a tingle of warmth that travels all the way to his toes. Taeyong tastes like coffee, possibly from what he drank before he stumbled onto Sicheng and the bitterness settles on his lips like a scorching brand.

It doesn’t taste like honey. It doesn’t smell like hyacinths. But the feeling of this being right is still there and nostalgia hits him like a tidal wave that he parts away as if he’s been burned.

Sicheng knows that dazed look, lips still puckered from the kiss and wide eyes trying to assess what has transpired. He’s seen that look in his dreams except here it was, mirrored as it happened once again.

Taeyong shuts his mouth, jolting back as if realizing and then turns away to run from where he came from.

Sicheng doesn’t stop him.

His chest is pounding like it wants to break free from his ribcage, fear and traces of warmth still thrumming inside his veins that he looks up and expects a woman to come out of the shadows to warn him.

But there was nothing there. Just him and the turmoil inside his mind that he took a moment to close his eyes to let a single tear fall down his cheek. Because he knows it was all a mistake.

A mistake he’s done once again that crossed a line that he wasn’t supposed to go past.

He will never learn, will he?

…

Jaehyun is who he runs to after that night.

He trusts him enough to not let his mouth run off to the others, trusting him with the ideas inside his head that even he doesn’t have full trust in and Sicheng is scared. He only ever told Kun about it, the echo of the words he said to him weighing down on his shoulders as he sits on the sofa with Jaehyun who is waiting for him to speak.

_Don’t you think these dreams aren’t just dreams?_

Sicheng misses the elder because he always grounded him into analyzing the problems he faces and Jaehyun is his same age friend but he was Taeyong’s friend first, the sheer possibility of him telling on him wasn’t escaping his mind. He’s paranoid because he wakes up to being cradled in Taeyong’s arms under pelts of animal fur and the scent of almonds and pomegranates that wash over his skin that he falls off his bed, sheets tangled around his legs as he finally comes back to his senses.

His visions are merging with his conscious mind and it’s taking its toll on him.

Sicheng doesn’t turn to see that Taeil was roused from sleep due to the noise, murmuring where he was going as he pads out the door with the blanket around his shoulders. He walks into Jaehyun’s room and found the other still awake with his phone in hand. Probably staying up late with that 97-line GC he is in. Sicheng recalls Jaehyun showing him the messages as they appeared one after the other, talking about bowl cuts and someone praising Ten to the point of egging Jaehyun about how he was dancing nowadays. He was envious of the company that Jaehyun had to entertain himself but he knew he didn’t fit in with people like that, people who seemed like they wouldn’t be able to understand his lack of Korean skills to completely get into their conversations.

Sicheng tiptoes to Jaehyun’s bed, making the floorboard creak in the process and the latter snaps his head up to find him looking like a deer caught in headlights. He furrows his brows at him in response and whispers “Winwin-ie?”

There is a ruffled sound of the sheets being thrown off as Jaehyun stands, guiding Sicheng out so as to not disturb his own slumbering roommate. He types something to his group like some excuse to being away before he leaves his phone, the notion making Sicheng grateful that Jaehyun at least is taking this seriously that he is giving Sicheng his full attention.

Both of them creep through the silent halls of their dorm, stopping inside the laundry room where it was easier to talk and away from the rooms so no one could hear them.

Jaehyun is looking at him with silent reassurance, the kind he always has whenever he knew Sicheng was having a hard time straightening his thoughts out. He knew there was something wrong. The incident with Sicheng in the shower looking like he didn’t know how he ended there enough for him to monitor how the Chinese boy was acting around him.  It’s only been a week but he’s noticed Sicheng drifting away from Taeyong, the way he purposefully avoids him now masked by latching to anyone that was closer to him. There was something forceful when Sicheng often had held Jaehyun’s arm when Taeyong tried to help him.

He was shaking.

He was scared.

Jaehyun didn’t know what happened between the two but if it was enough for Sicheng to come to him, then it was something he needed to understand. They always talked about things that only they shared with the other, trapped in their own world as the other hyungs often said as they watched the two interact. He taught Sicheng how to act cuter to get what he wanted, Sicheng shared with him the memories he had of his hometown at times he felt a little sad and both of them always got each other that they didn’t need words to tell it.

He places his hand over Sicheng’s, reassuring and says “Go on.”

There’s a flash of vulnerability through Sicheng’s eyes that is enough for him to gulp, throat growing dry when he thinks about the recent memories that surface at the forefront of his brain. Jaehyun knows he wouldn’t start crying yet with how he’s still holding on to the last of his resolve. Sicheng’s keeping his hands tightly clasped together that they tightened more when Jaehyun squeezed them.

“What happened?” he asks in a hushed tone, looking up to the door to see if anyone would suddenly come in “Did  you really just want to stand here in silence or are you going to tell me what’s been happening?”

Sicheng flinches, noting that Jaehyun may be waiting but he won’t wait forever for Sicheng to start spilling over the very things he’s keeping so close in his heart. He keeps so much inside him, burdening himself to the point that he’ll shut himself into silence while still keeping that sweet smile on his face. Sicheng, who lies with his face and not his words because it was easier to fake it without trying to rope himself into twists and turns, never knows when to stop locking his feelings so deep inside he’ll break if he even tries to unravel them.

A sigh escapes his mouth, hanging his head as he says “I keep dreaming,” Sicheng pauses as he gauges what Jaehyun’s expression is before continuing “Dreams that don’t really make sense whenever I try to piece them together because they just come and go.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes in good nature, trying to lighten Sicheng up a little “Don’t they all?”

He laughs a little but the smile fades and he starts curling and uncurling his fingers “They’re memories,” Sicheng blinks away the sudden splotch of purple that appears on his knuckles “I’m always in them. It’s me doing things I didn’t know was possible considering I’ve never been there before.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to think about how can it be my memories if I never remember them and it feels like it did happen but I don’t understand how,” Sicheng chokes on his breath when he inhales too fast “Oh god, and he’s there too, he’s always in my mind ever since I met him and I don’t _understand-“_

“Sicheng, Sicheng-“

He can’t see Jaehyun in front of him, he sees Taeyong with his long hair hanging over his face as he regards him with deep eyes. Taeyong who glows with his youth to the point that it made him wonder if anyone would ever go against him without knowing they would lose. They’re somewhere in the sea, judging by the way the surroundings rock but Sicheng finds that there are bundles of clothes by the side and he looks back to Taeyong’s eyes.

Taeyong burns so bright despite the dim lighting, almost making him want to be blinded if it meant being with him as long as it takes.

“I would not care,” he finds himself saying “Whatever you became, it wouldn’t matter to me. We would be together.”

He’s afraid of the way he wholesomely believes in what he said. How he trusts himself to do it without even thinking twice for Taeyong who is only destined for fame.

Taeyong is all sharp lines and confidence overflowing like the lively rives where no one knew where it ends. “Will you come with me?”

Sicheng would. Love makes him want to follow even when he knew what it entailed and sorrow for the way that no matter how much he loved Taeyong, it wouldn’t change anything that has already been written in the stars. He would follow, even in death “Yes.”

The relief on his face broke him more and he reaches out to hold him, only to blink away as he stares at Jaehyun once more, who looks like he’s at the midst of panic.

“Winwin, what just happened?” His voice is wavering, on the verge of tearing up as he leans over him that he wonders how he managed to have his back to the floor. Jaehyun has a hand around his shoulder to heave him up, the other on his chest to probably try to feel if his heart was still beating.

Sicheng closes his eyes, whispers “Another vision,” and burrows his face into Jaehyun’s chest because he doesn’t know how to conquer the way his chest is wound tight like someone has his heart in a chokehold as he drowns in the misplaced sadness that washes over him.

Jaehyun hugs him closer, wondering but he knows Taeyong’s part in this is something he won’t find out until Sicheng is fit to speak about it.

The way the boy just stopped talking, a dazed look on his face as he seems to be experiencing the same state he was in when Jaehyun found him in the shower made him think that it might not good for Sicheng to be near Taeyong at this rate.

“Winwin, let’s get you to bed, okay? You can even sleep on my bed if it helps. I need you to tell me you’re going to be alright.”

There’s no answer as Sicheng grabs fistful of Jaehyun’s shirt to pull him closer.

They ended up sleeping on the couch with Sicheng not letting go until he almost jumps out and ran to his room in time for Taeyong to barge into the living room looking for the both of them.

…

Sicheng welcomes the hand that holds his, looking up to see Yuta’s smiling face. He blinks when the elder pulls him off his chair to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “Hyung?”

Yuta’s smile widens more and he pinches his cheek much to Sicheng’s annoyance “Yah, why the long face? Where’s the cutie smile we all like?”

He starts to thrash Sicheng around like a rag doll, whining all the way the same manner he does aegyo on broadcast. Yuta’s been clingier these days, much more than the usual, as if he knew something was bothering Sicheng and being the good hyung he was, wanted to diffuse that tension by making him as comfortable as he could. It’s a cute thing that makes Sicheng feel a little better even if sometimes he wonders if Yuta is just bored. There’s always something ridiculous with how Yuta tries to cheer people up and Sicheng can only look on blankly as Yuta latches to him.

Yuta hugging him every chance he can get, asking him to spend time with him to ease the ache in his chest that settles bitterly into an emptiness and the wisps of kisses he gives his cheek the same way his mother used to do to him when he was younger. It’s not strange to accept these sentiments with how it’s Yuta who’s known to be very affectionate with everyone.

“I hope you’re okay. It’s not healthy to always keep things in.” Yuta says offhandedly, cuddling as they watch the next season of the anime he picked out. Sicheng doesn’t reply under the pretense of watching the colorful movements on screen but he gulps out of nervousness and feels the hand ruffling his hair to finally look up at Yuta’s worried face.

“It’s a good show?” he says and he is greeted with bright laughter as he’s told about the studio handling the production, question forgotten because Sicheng doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s talked to Jaehyun about his dreams to the point he wonders if Taeyong shared it, almost confronting the elder if it wasn’t for the horror that overcame Sicheng’s face.

Taeyong does not treat him differently on camera, entertaining a light hug or even talking to him sometimes but the moment the lenses are moved to a different direction, both of them become awkward that Taeyong makes sure to approach the others to hide the fact he’s running away from Sicheng. He’s still the caring leader who goes out his way to help others but there’s a distance between them now that Sicheng is afraid of going back to apologize to him properly.

Apologize for what? That kiss? For having feelings and memories that he still has to this day that worsened the farther away he was from him?

Sicheng doesn’t know what to remedy the longing that keeps him awake at night to chase away visions of the things that could have been, hopeful little actions that burns his skin from the way that he can see the way he cares for the Taeyong in his mind the same way he did to the one that was in front of him. Except there, he receives the same affection and devotion that didn’t need words to be conveyed. Taeyong held his gaze, looking like he was kissed by the sun and beautiful in ways that was beyond comprehension that Sicheng didn’t think he was a figment of his mind when his fingers trace Sicheng’s jaw, whispering if he knew how much Taeyong loved the little things about him.

Sicheng wishes it didn’t give him whiplash whenever he sees Taeyong’s body flinch when they meet around the dorm, looking down and pretending he forgot something from the other direction and Sicheng remembers the words of encouragement that is whispered to his ear at the dead of the night covered in blankets smelling like fruit and a scent that was remotely Taeyong.

“Winwin?” Yuta nudges him out of his thoughts, staring at the now darkened screen as the credits rolled that he can see the purple lining the underside of his eye with their prominent bags that he blinks away the heaviness of them to force a smile at him.

“It was funny.”

Yuta is unconvinced and Sicheng doesn’t say anything else.

He has to focus on their impending comeback, the practices more stressful than the last to accommodate more members and he doesn’t need to distract himself more than he should. He came to Korea to pursue his dream, not let something like this stop him from performing his very best and Sicheng knew he was just lying to himself at this point.

But he bottles it up enough to not let it get in the way of what he is supposed to be doing.

Yuta holds him close with a leg thrown over his own that Sicheng shakes his head to burrow closer to the elder’s side. He’s not sure why this feels familiar, the kind that it settles the discomfort in his chest but not enough to erase the doubts in his head. Sicheng knows it’s temporary to feel safe like this when he’s looking for it at the wrong place but for now, it’s good enough.

It has to be for his well-being’s sake before he does something reckless.

…

Sicheng knows that look on Taeyong’s face.

He tries not to appear like he’s staring too much at his direction, head down but keeping it tilted enough he can still see the hard set of Taeyong’s jaw as he grits his teeth. His eyebrows are furrowed that he looked scarier than usual and his knuckles had turned white as he gripped his phone between his hands.

He’s washing the dishes he used, careful not to disturb the silence that is pressing hard against the atmosphere of the room as Taeyong reads something on his phone. He probably didn’t even hear Sicheng come inside, attention diverted that the latter was grateful for because he still can feel himself shaking when he saw him sitting in front of the table.

“Sicheng, hurry up!” he hears Yuta call out, probably to make him wash his teeth and it startles him so much that he loses grip of the plate he’s holding and curses in Mandarin when he manages to hold the edge. However, his hand is still covered in soap suds and it slips out as it makes a resounding crack when it breaks the moment it makes contact with the floor.

He gasps in shock, immediately crouching to his knees to pick them up and hissing when a sharp piece pierces his skin. Sicheng can feel the blood trickling out of the shallow wound, staining the debris he’s trying to pick up and he yelps when he grabs another sharp piece that cuts his palm.

“Get away from that.” Taeyong’s voice makes him freeze on the spot, heart almost lurching out his chest because of the fear then there are hands shoving his away. He gulps when Taeyong holds him by the wrists to pull him up, pulling him away to the other side of the room before he picked up the broom and dustpan to sweep over the broken pieces of the plate. Sicheng bites his lip because he hadn’t thought about that, berating himself for being so stupid and stares at Taeyong’s back.

“Can I…Can I help you, hyung?” he says without thinking, slapping his palm over his mouth when Taeyong looks over his shoulder to give him a cold stare. There’s a warning that goes unsaid as Taeyong goes out to dispose of the debris as Sicheng tries to not flex his hands so much to stop aggravating his wounds. He’s going to be scolded by the manager for his injuries with how spaced out he’s been these days, already hearing the worry in the other members voice and then the dismissal Taeyong is going to give him at this moment.

“Come with me.”

Sicheng whips his head to where Taeyong is standing by the door. The elder is looking at his hand and he’s tapping his foot impatiently. Sicheng must have looked like he didn’t pay attention because Taeyong repeats his call with a tighter tone.

“Hyung, I-“He doesn’t get to finish because Taeyong grabs his wrist to drag him to the bathroom where the medicine cabinet was. Sicheng winces when he instinctively curls his fingers that the wound is reopened and a line of blood trickles down his palm to mix with the wound there.

Taeyong sighs as he opens the cabinet to take out the first aid kit, motioning Sicheng to sit on the edge of the tub “It might get infected, just let me treat it.”

He opens the white box to take out rolls of gauze, some cotton and the other antiseptics as he lined them on the sink. Sicheng keeps his gaze lowered as Taeyong kneels in front of him, taking his wrist carefully, touch gentle that Sicheng is trembling from his heart almost trying to jump out his chest. He doesn’t know what he expects when he and Taeyong spoke again but it certainly wasn’t this: Taeyong dabbing the antiseptic-soaked cotton on his wound after making him wash it with soap and water, pulling at his wrist with his thumb brushing against his pulse point whenever Sicheng flinched.

It’s a calming situation that Sicheng felt drowsy with the way that Taeyong seemed to be taking care to not hurt him.

He finishes it up by wrapping gauze around his hand, tying it tight enough so it wouldn’t slip off that easily without suffocating the treated wound. Sicheng held his hands close to his chest, staring at Taeyong who raised his head in time to look at him with exasperation.

“Be careful next time.” He sighs, turning his back to him and Sicheng panics that he reaches out with his other hand to tug at Taeyong’s shirt to stop him. The elder flinches at the action but he doesn’t look back and there’s something restrained in his posture that Sicheng is afraid he might be rousing a ticking time bomb. Taeyong’s moods are unpredictable and he doesn’t think he can take it when he starts getting angry at him. But he doesn’t let go of his grip, tightening it more as he grits his teeth to calm himself.

This is the closest he’s been to Taeyong in a while and the relief in his heart is weighing him down so much he wants to slump against his back. “Hyung, I’m sorry.” He whispers, voice almost stuttering because he’s afraid of being abandoned again without a word. He’s tired of having to stare from afar not sure what he should do to remedy the situation and he chokes back the sob threatening to come out because he has to be strong.

Sicheng has to pretend he’s strong enough to take the rejection that might come his way.

“What for?” Taeyong asks. His voice is light, almost trying not to let his emotions slip into his words and Sicheng doesn’t know what to do but confess what broke the fragile line between them.

“That kiss.” Taeyong might not like him or he might not even see boys in that kind of light and having Sicheng, who is his band mate of all things considered, come up to him to kiss him must have been shocking. It could be considered harassment even and Sicheng is relieved he didn’t speak to the manager about trying to make Sicheng leave. Small favors that Sicheng doesn’t know if it was good or bad for him.

It would be better for Taeyong to make him leave.

Taeyong sighs, holding Sicheng’s hand and making him lose his grip on his shirt. He stayed like that, lingering his looped fingers around Sicheng’s skinny wrist to look at him, searching for something that he didn’t know what and it made the younger more nervous.

He must have found it because he lets go as slow as the way he held him that his fingers brushed against his skin before they curled in on themselves, Taeyong forcing a smile and saying “Let’s just call a truce” before he leaves Sicheng once more like he never was there in the first place.

It’s not fixed but it’s not that broken anymore. There’s forgiveness in Taeyong’s words but Sicheng knew that wasn’t completely the case because of the way that his heart told him something was wrong.

It was better that he left rather than having this ugly sense of bitterness knowing that Taeyong doesn’t want him here.


	3. The End

“You know that we really should be taking care of our reputation. Anything can ruin us to be honest.”

The way that it was said, slipping out so casually from Johnny’s lips when they are backstage preparing to perform is enough to make Sicheng’s blood turn cold. He finds the way that his stomach plummets he gets the urge to vomit just as he looks up. They aren’t looking at him but it feels like they are. The weight on his shoulders is overbearing that his knees are on the verge of buckling if it weren’t for Jaehyun slipping his arm around his waist to make him come back to reality.

He smiles at him, grateful and Jaehyun says “Are you excited?” that Sicheng forces himself to ignore the conversation just a few paces away from them. The blond hugged him closer that he almost squealed and laughed, pushing him away with a grin.

“Seriously!” he whined that Jaehyun tried to box with him so he followed his fist jabbing motions that he can hear Taeil chuckling in the background. Without really missing a beat, Sicheng rushed to make it look like he was going to jab at Taeil as the elder ducked but he wrapped his arms around him.

“Ah, this kid!” Taeil mutters out loud in exasperation but still hugging Sicheng back even when he’s tipping over from him pressing his weight down on him.

Johnny is looking over at them in amusement, Sicheng can feel his gaze as well as Taeyong’s who is near him that he straightens himself to detach from Taeil. “Sheesh, you’re so hyper today Winwin.” Yuta comments as he walks past them right when a makeup noona ushers him over.

He smiles awkwardly at him in response, walking to look over the stage where he is hidden by the wall that separated it from the back listening in to Johnny and Taeyong’s conversation.

“You can be a real asshole, sometimes,” Taeyong hisses at the taller boy, crossing his arms like he usually does when he wants to avoid a conversation “You don’t think I don’t know that?”

Johnny rolls his eyes, unfazed by the threatening edge on his stance when he’s already used to Taeyong’s moods “It’s just that I care about you, man and I’ve been noticing things that really worry me.”

Sicheng didn’t know why but he turns his head at them to find that Johnny is looking at him as well as Taeyong who moves his sight to follow his. He gulps at what was being implied in that and he forces himself not to think about their reaction when he turns his heels to go bother the younger members without looking like he’s running away.

They perform without a hitch, breathless when they’re changing in the dressing room back to their normal clothes. There’s always a rush during these moments, eager to get rid of the sweaty and bothersome stage outfits that were sometimes too atrocious for them to bother with, smiling through it because of the concept.

Sicheng manages to put his arms into the sweater and pulling the collar right over his head when he hears the door open. He doesn’t think much of it, humming a “Jaehyun?” because no one usually came in when he was changing other than him. He’s once had Yuta barge in but he was already dressed when he did and saved himself the embarrassment.

When there is no answer, he simply shrugs his sweater on as his head finally got out of the cotton confines and almost made a girlish sound when he sees Taeyong looking at him strangely, holding his bag strap around his arm. He looks like he’s trying to restrain his face from giving away what he was thinking. “Taeyong-hyung?” he whispers, afraid of startling him that he would lash out.

“You’re taking too long. We need to go,” his voice was clipped, smiling too much that Sicheng can feel his insincerity and tries to take his bag away as fast as he could.

Taeyong’s stare lingers on him, strangely warm that it makes Sicheng shy that he can’t help but bite his lip from fear and anticipation that tears his heart asunder. He doesn’t know how to act normal around him anymore that he can either pretend it doesn’t affect him when he’s near or stare forlornly like the moron he was who thought that there might even be a chance for Taeyong to return his feelings. Return them like he did in the times that his visions often overlapped with his senses, kisses hot on his skin and the phantom sensation of skin against skin that makes his spine tingle with want.

But they are gone just like mist dissipating out that he has to give himself a reality check.

Right now, his heart is trying to crush against his ribs with how hard it’s thumping against it and he hates that Johnny’s words come back to him.

Don’t ruin the group. Don’t do anything that could damage what they’ve worked so hard for because he was being selfish. Thetis’ words rang true against his thundering heartbeat against his ear, cold and frigid “You will not disgrace him.”

“Thank you, Taeyong-ssi.”

God, it tastes vile in his mouth to pretend that he feels nothing. The sharp jab that still clings to his tongue like he needs to wash it with soap to get rid of the tar that is left by the lie he made. Walking away as if he didn’t see the way that Taeyong grits his teeth to keep his silence and look at him as if he’s begging for something, something that Sicheng isn’t keen on giving him the satisfaction of receiving. He’s not cruel but he’s not that lenient either.

It’s better that he stops hoping altogether if he has to carry the burden of memories that belonged to him so long ago in a different body without the one person that meant the world to him even recall who they were.

He’s tired.

But never of being in love with someone who shines so bright in his eyes he’s willing to be blinded by him.

…

Taeyong is the one who hugs him out of the blue when he’s looking out the balcony of the hotel room they were staying for the night. The coldness of the wind brushing against skin that went hand in hand with the calming aroma of the scented candles that Jaehyun had gave him to help ease his mind for when the visions come made him loose-limbed, defenses lowered that he doesn’t hear his door being opened and almost jumps off due to shock when arms wrapped around his waist.

“What-“He can’t finish his inquiry because there’s a head on the crook of his neck, breath catching in his throat when he recognizes the sensation.

Taeyong doesn’t speak, doesn’t even make a move to tell Sicheng why he was here and merely breathes in silence with his hair tickling the side of the younger’s jaw. It’s a very nostalgic action that sends Sicheng’s mind reeling with questions that don’t help his hopes from escalating back to the lengths they were before. But then, Taeyong is shaking and perhaps Sicheng is not the right person for him to unload whatever he is feeling.

“Doyoung-hyung’s room is next to mine.” He forces himself to say in the calmest tone he can to not make it seem he was sending Taeyong away. There’s really no one else he can think of that could help with the problem festering in the elder’s head other than Doyoung, the memory of MAMA Awards where Doyoung held Taeyong as he cried when they got the award was bittersweet that he can’t help but respect Doyoung. Especially since they were roommates too where he’d take care of Sicheng in little ways that he knows how it easy it could be for him to be in tune with people’s moods.

“You really don’t want me here, do you?” Taeyong whispered, shaky that it seemed to make Sicheng want to turn around and tuck him close to his chest to keep him safe but he doesn’t fall prey to that urge no matter how much he wanted to do it. He’s barely functioning with the seams in his resolve fraying whenever he sees Taeyong and he won’t slip up now right when things have become somewhat normal again.

Taeyong didn’t avoid him as much anymore, going back to the kind leader he was and helping him even when he doesn’t realize it’s happening at first. Sicheng who manages to somehow to go back to orbiting Taeyong without realizing it that he latches to the nearest thing to stop himself from falling back into that gravity. But it isn’t easy when they’re in the public eye that Sicheng can’t deny when he is being moved over until he is next to Taeyong more times than he can count and he’d turn to Jaehyun wherever side he may be standing to panic. There’s a warning from the others when they nudge him to keep still and he smiles the best way he can to convince everyone he isn’t nervous in the slightest.

 But he is. He always will be until the time he starts to fool himself he can fall out of love with Taeyong.

“I’m not the best person for this.” Sicheng confesses because what else can he offer but the truth? There is nothing else for him to give that Taeyong will accept and he’s made it pretty clear that he wouldn’t be changing his mind anytime soon. Cruelty he can try to deliver but Sicheng is never good under pressure that there’s nothing left to do than watch the scene unfold. He doesn’t want to continue this charade longer if it means getting hurt.

Taeyong chuckles against his neck that makes him stiffen when hot air blows against the sensitive skin. The arms squeeze tighter that Taeyong’s palm lays flat against his stomach with his thumb pressing right below his ribcage. Sicheng can feel his breath being knocked over and he pushes him away but Taeyong doesn’t let go and just has Sicheng facing him.

“Hyung, let go of-“he trails off when Taeyong sinks to his knees, arms still around his waist as he hides his face on Sicheng’s stomach. There is nothing but pity that surges in him when he feels the way that Taeyong is saying things he can’t hear. The tremor on his shoulders is more obvious now especially when he places his hands on his shoulder and closes his eyes. But what Taeyong says out loud is what floors him to submitting to this situation.

“I’ve given the rest of the world so much. Let me have this for myself for once.”

Sicheng doesn’t understand what he means. He doesn’t know why either when he starts feeling hot tears well in his eyes until he’s biting his lips down to stop himself from speaking and breaking this silence.

It’s familiar but at the same time, it isn’t.

Taeyong still doesn’t remember. Sicheng can only offer him a little sympathy while he tries to vanquish away whatever is bothering him through the tears that are soaking the hem of Sicheng’s shirt and he wishes that he’d be able to explain this if his roommates ever came back to see this spectacle.

“Hyung, you need to go before they come back. I don’t want to make them think anything bad about you.” Sicheng reminds him and gently pushes him off that Taeyong’s arms fall down to his knees as he kept his head down. He doesn’t look like the Achilles in Sicheng’s dreams, full of pride and knowing exactly what he born to do; Taeyong looked lost in the abyss of his thoughts that didn’t include Sicheng but he still sought him out for reasons he can’t delve into that he suddenly is hit with the choking realization this was how he acted when he died.

The moment he saw the dead body that he recognized as his friend, his companion, his life partner and he broke down that yes, Hector has warranted something that would ensure his death in his hands.

Sicheng remembers that one time, his heart filled with dread as he heard from Thetis about his fate that he’d be the only one to kill Hector and the hope that surged over his very bones when Taeyong gave him a sly smile, defiance twinkling in his eyes as he said “Why should I kill him? He’s done nothing to me.”

The irony is not lost on him. He sees nothing but that moment as Taeyong stands up without a word, all the fight drained out of him that he can’t even keep his head up to look at where he was going. Just turned around as if it took him more strength than needed that Sicheng winces at it and stalked out the door without even sparing a glance at him, the door’s loud slam echoing as he did so.

Yuta opens the door exactly fifteen minutes later, confused. Sicheng counted because he expected that Taeyong would come back to ask him something and he was merely bracing himself for it. Yuta just confirms his suspicion when he says “Why was Taeyong crouching with his back on the door?”

Sicheng gives him a blank stare. Yuta doesn’t get the signal and continues as he plops onto his bed “Did he need something?”

“No.” he shrugs as he goes back to the balcony to breathe the air in once more. He isn’t feeling his throat clogged with the lie tasting like ash at his airways like pollution. Sicheng can ignore it as long as he can while he’s still awake and he will deny it when sleep gives him nightmares this time around about war and blood and the call of his name as he lay dead in Taeyong’s arms still wearing his golden armor.

A better liar, that’s what he’s become.

…

They pin the blame on him.

Sicheng remembers the news of a scandal afoot when they were just about to debut and he recalls the managers calling onto Taeyong into the meeting room to discuss it. They had to do a recording for a NCT Life segment that they all turned to look at the commotion. Yuta seemed to be the one most concerned because he was closer to Taeyong then and the worry on his face made everyone else nervous.

Sicheng doesn’t know why he remembers this moment vividly now after so much time has passed in between but he does, almost as if it just happened and it’s completely unraveling in front of his eyes in all high definition that only comes when you’re so close to the image.

The tangible fear that hangs over Taeyong’s head after he comes out the room with his shoulders tensed as if he’s carrying the weight of the world, the skittish way he avoids speaking to the others as he smiles wide enough it might have fooled strangers and the resolve that is sinking into his eyes that Sicheng is afraid of what it entailed.

“When I was younger-“The moment he started to speak about his past, Sicheng recalls the blur of his words because he’s staring at the defeat that Taeyong is still trying to mask as each revelation slips out of his mouth like oil on water that he can’t discern if he’s asking for forgiveness and wanting to get everything over with as soon as possible.

Sicheng finds out a little while after that the situation was blown out of proportion and Taeyong was left to salvage it with the only way the company knew how: apologizing for something so trivial he might have committed before but had been badly misinterpreted. Did those tears really mean anything when he was crying for something that fans dug in his history, twisted beyond the initial intent and almost ruining Taeyong’s career, NCT’s future even?

People would always find someone to blame and with the rabid mentality of people only wanting to tear them down because they are rookies, Sicheng can’t help but feel sorry for Taeyong for enduring this much backlash that he never deserved.

Taeyong grieves because of it even now, hiding behind a strong visage. He’s easily irritated when he’s pushed too far and Sicheng can’t blame him. He sees the fight still occurring in the elder’s mind pushed away because he has a job to do.

It’s unfair he has to carry the burden of people who made a slip up too large to contain that it destroyed the image they painted of Taeyong in this cruel industry where you become slaves of the media to an extent you can lose yourself.

“People will demand too much from you, you know,” Jaehyun once told him while they were out shopping for some street food that he wanted Sicheng to try, covered in masks and shades so people didn’t make a big fuss over them and ruin the experience “It’s a dog eat dog world where if you show the slightest weakness, you’re left for the rats.”

Sicheng processes the words carefully in his head to make sense of them and purses his lips when he got the message Jaehyun meant “They will dishonor you if they find your mistake?” he asks just as they round over to where there are stands selling some street foods ins ticks and Jaehyun grabs his arm to tow him over one of them.

“It’s always easier to blame one person and let them carry the burden for the rest of their career. Easier to clean up but messier to forget.”

Sicheng recalls Taeyong then retreats to the far corners of his mind to conjure the memory of him with his face covered in blood with the sacrifice that was done right in front of his eyes without any consent and leaving him to grieve for something he wish he could have prevented. There’s a rush of anger that comes with the whisper of the words that a soft heart won’t get him anywhere when he was born to kill men and not save them.

“You are wrong.” Jaehyun doesn’t hear him because he took the opportunity to shove a fish cake into his mouth to muffle it and he doesn’t repeat it until he’s lying in his bed with the question filtering in his mind about what it felt like to kill someone.

_But will he forgive?_

_Of course. He can’t offend him._

But Sicheng knows that despite how Taeyong is with his heart in the right place, he still has an anger deeply rooted in him that hides like thorns in a rose bush. He’s temperamental to the point of silence, grudges a mile wide kept close to his chest so he could continue trying his best for everyone’s sake and Sicheng feels the dark thoughts radiating from him that he’s drawn to it.

Just like when he was under a different name. The grief that came with the death of a loving companion he’s known since boyhood that sends him to a downward spiral to which he can utter the words “I wish he had let you all die” for the people who recruited him into this war.

Accepting his inevitable was one thing. Having the death of a loved one before yours is a torture that will tear you apart.

He was to be made a God but he was mortal still.

…

His sister calls him one day, soft voice inquiring when she asks how he is and whether the idol life has taken its toll on him. She’s worried and it’s understandable but Sicheng could only chuckle at her patronizing tone that is just a touch shy away from scolding him that he has to hold the phone away from his ear to mask his laughter. There’s really nothing as soothing as his sister’s voice after the turmoil he’s been through, too distraught to call up his parents to speak about the thoughts in his head without them probably worrying for his mental health.

Conversation with his sister is easier between the bantering back and forth as he asks about how she is and how her work has been after her boss had promoted her. She, in turn, wonders about him and Seoul, asking questions he easily answers with a yes and a no before she asks him something that made him swallow his words down.

“Anyone caught your eye there?” she teases him like she usually did when he would talk about the girls in his dance classes as a child and wondering if they made him blush with their soft hair and sweet faces that he’d feel embarrassed. She doesn’t know what’s happening but the beat of silence that comes next is enough for her to be curious “There is.”

Sicheng can feel his mouth as if it’s being stuffed with cotton balls, teeth uncomfortably clacking when he licks his lips out of nervousness and he nods, mostly to reassure himself. When he realizes she wouldn’t be able to see that, he let out an unconvincing laugh “I don’t play here.”

She clicks her tongue, seeing right through him “What’s there to hide, hm? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with liking people here and there. There’s no harm done if you’re just admiring.”

The odd way she can read him despite being miles apart is really something he should expect from her given how close they were but he doesn’t really want to make a big of a fuss than what’s already presented. He can’t outright say he’s in love with someone because of the intermingling thoughts of the past and the present that is poisoning him every time he thinks about its impossibilities but she’s his sister and maybe he can let it slip.

“Admiring, perhaps,” Sicheng closes his eyes because no, it’s strange to think he’s in love but he can’t show it without making it obvious he’s in pain. It’s better that he lets the situation flow as it should and let people come to him instead of the other way around. He doesn’t know how to approach Taeyong with how there’s a shift between them and really, he wishes he could make that leap “But it’s merely something of the philosophy that you can look as much as you want but it’s not for you to touch.”

She scoffs, the idea something she probably thought was preposterous and Sicheng can hear the sarcasm dripping through the line “It’s not forbidden or anything mind-shaking, right? Or is there part of your contract you can’t be in a relationship with anyone?”

Sicheng tries to remember the fine print presented to him when he first was asked to sign but comes to a blank, relying on the memories he has of the other members talking about how their career came first over their personal relationships and having a dating scandal this early was too much for them to handle. So, perhaps, there is still a stigma for that in a way their job came first because their fanbase can be rabid to anything that might shatter the delusion that they can attain their idols. At the very least, that’s what he can recall.

“No. Our job comes first, remember?” he says, voice softening when he adds “I came here, away from mama and baba because I wanted to pursue this dream and having any distractions is not good for my well-being.”

“Oh, Sicheng. My dear brother,” she whispers in a tone that weighed heavily on Sicheng. The soft whisper that made him recall of their summers back home running down the hills of the countryside where they’d pick wild flowers and be scolded for the hitchhiker plants clinging on their clothes that they’d count the sharp bulbs to compete who had more. It’s a lonely feeling and he feels like crying again “Whoever is making you unhappy, they don’t deserve you.”

“How do you know that someone is? Perhaps I miss home.”

“Sicheng, sometimes your sister just knows these things and I know for certain, you’re hurting but you don’t want to tell me because it’s something too close to your heart it might ruin you.”

He hates how she’s right and he tells her as much, even going as far as to say that “I may not deserve them but god, I wish I did. I might have so long ago but that was because I wasn’t a coward and I could tell them about it.”

Only he remembers and that’s what he clings to the most: the memories that are at the edges of his mind never leaving him peace as they come back different each time. He’ll always be the one who carries them close to his chest in fear someone will find them and taint them will ill intent and mockery. Jaehyun knows of them but he can see that even Jaehyun is trying to grasp the idea of these strange happenings in Sicheng’s mind.

“Sicheng, if you told them, would it set you free?” she’s just hitting all the questions that plagued him and Sicheng thinks back to the time that he might have thought he could have his feelings reciprocated, have these memories connected like the constellations but he knows it’s a fool’s wish. Because not everyone has that eye for the stars in the sky when they are too busy keeping their feet rooted to the ground. It’s menacing to accept that it was time to move away from the past because his present is bleak that he knows what it might entail.

Freedom isn’t really the outcome he’s looking for but it’s the closest to what he might get from Taeyong. Because he knew what he wanted and he knows how much it’s going to change him.

He can’t help the sadness in his voice, heart-breaking that he can only feel the dull spark of pain that comes whenever his heart beats when he answers “I would have to pretend as if I didn’t know someone so deeply I can recognize him not just by sight or touch, to finally stopping myself to follow them to the ends of the earth. It’s not freedom but comfort and I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

Sicheng doesn’t know why he adds “But I have to.”

They talk for a few more minutes but his mood had sunk down, thinking about the words again and again that he can’t properly get into the conversation. His sister understood when he told her that he needed to rest for tonight, whispering a soft good night and reminding him that he should clear his head once in awhile to stop sounding so heavy-hearted without meaning to that he chuckled.

Even the sound of his voice was hollow, the click of the other line as she hung up and he almost drops his phone when he places it on the nightstand with how shaky his hands were. He sighed heavily to get rid of whatever was clogging his throat then bundled the covers around him, missing dinner that his roommates came to check on him to see him unmoving in his bed.

Yuta and Doyoung is there to rub his back reassuringly when he lies on his side, curled with his knees to his chest and facing the wall. Their words are white noise that Sicheng didn’t even know what to respond to that they let him be when they thought he was asleep.

Sicheng is tired.

He doesn’t know how he came to this point that he would have to do this after keeping it inside for so long, as long as he can. Perhaps it is for that same reason, keeping him grounded with listless memories than belonged to him in another time in another body that was much more resilient than he could ever be. There is nothing that he can do but reminisce because it is not up to him whether he should keep moving forward when the one he seeks is always a step backwards away.

Dancing around the problem only worsened it that he doesn’t want to push on the issue longer than he already has and as much every part of him spoke against it, he hushed them.

He thinks back to his sister’s words, about being free and how the consequences will change him for better or worse. There’s always the possibility that it will let them drift further that it can be noticeable, the very same situation reminisce of the moments he found that people wonder about how Taeyong and Jaehyun’s friendship waned as time went by that they start making theories that he often felt uncomfortable reading about when he came across them. The fans were hawk-eyed that he knew that the little moments he had considered private and meaningful when he spent time with his members painted in so many lights that he felt like he’s seeing a circus mirror house where he can’t remember what the truth was.

Sicheng moves to the other side, rustling the covers as he looks into the darkness trying to adjust his vision and he sits up when he finds that there is light from the gap under the door. He tilts his head, wiping away the traces of sweat clinging to his eyelashes and patters towards the door as quiet as a mouse while he can see Yuta’s outline almost falling out of his bed. Doyoung is covered from head to toe with his covers that he slowly twists the door handle to make sure no creak is made before he slips through the space in between fit for him and closing it with the same care.

He anticipates it could be Taeyong because he has been awake in the middle of the night more than usual since the last time they spoke to each other. Sicheng hears Johnny complain in the morning with his voice loud enough that he can hear him from the kitchen scolding Taeyong for sleeping on the sink holding a cup half-filled with stale coffee. This coupled with him trying to cook breakfast for all of them even when he yawns every few minutes and the puffiness under his eyes that accentuate how dark the bags have begun to form only made Sicheng worry for him. He wants to help if not because of his feelings for him then as his friend yet he can’t bring himself to move his feet so he could manage to place a reassuring hand on the elder’s shoulder.

It felt wrong. It felt lacking. He will always want more than he knows he should give that he digs his nails into his palm until the pain distracts him and someone else is scolding Taeyong, shooing him away from the hot stove where he almost placed the garlic into the open flames instead of the pan. He doesn’t look up from his clenched fists when he feels his presence brush past him but he does leave a set of ointment by the sink when he finishes brushing his teeth knowing well that Taeyong would come in next.

“Hello?” he calls out to the hall, tentative and soft because who knows it might be a robber at the dead of the night and it pays to be careful. He pads across to make sure his shadow can’t be seen as he peeks through the entryway without being completely seen.

The living room has the lights off compared to the other rooms, the darkness almost making him move along the way to check elsewhere but he stops when he sees the nest of blankets that’s arranged in between the couch and the coffee table that has been pushed a little to accommodate them. It’s a strange sight, probably from the movie night he must have missed, the blankets having pillows stacked-

The shape moves, shifting in the sheets it's wrapped on then Sicheng can only blink when he sees Taeyong’s face from underneath the blanket he has over his head to protect him from the cold.

“Hyung?” he says again and walks to the side of the couch close enough he can see the elder’s curled figure looking like he was cocooned in the white sheets. It doesn’t look very comfortable with how cold the floor was and how it wouldn’t do well for his back “Hyung.” He tries again to see if Taeyong is awake and if he just wandered off around here in the middle of the night.

The only answer he gets is the groggy shake of Taeyong’s head, hair mussed on the pillow he propped under before he burrows his face into it. He must have only caught sleep now, Sicheng muses when he looks over how tight the lines of his face were, still bothered even when he isn’t conscious.

“Hyung, why aren’t you in your room?” he asks out loud not really expecting much of an answer before he decides to sit on the floor across right behind the coffee table to act as some sort of barrier between them. He rests his elbows on the table, waiting for Taeyong to stir and resting the side of his head on the surface to stare.

“I’m sorry,” he starts with no real intention of questioning why he’s doing this other than he can’t tell it to him when they’re awake because it would make them aware enough to want to move away from the subject. Mostly Sicheng’s hesitance to finally have the answers to the questions that plague him and here, Taeyong who might not hear him through the haze of sleep, perhaps he can be honest even if now is the last time he can be “For leaving you before.

He closes his eyes and rethinks through everything he’s seen, memories and visions that came from before as he crosses his arms and lays his head down “I don’t see time being kind to us now, hm. You were always a step ahead of me and I always stood by you, wondering about how you carry yourself with the weight of what was given to you at birth,” he takes a deep breath before he continues “You never lost, always unyielding because you don’t know how and perhaps that recklessness you carried with you is what always worried me. About what happens when you finally need to?”

Sicheng pauses again when he hears rustling but he doesn’t see Taeyong moving “You’re different now. So out of reach even when I thought I could just touch you barely with my fingertips,” he can hear his voice cracking “You’re still the same still sometimes that maybe I can fool myself into thinking you can remember that time.”

He stands up because his legs have gone to sleep, tingling like tiny needles inside his skin that he moves closer to where Taeyong is curled up and pulling the overthrown blankets to arrange it over him. Sicheng wonders if he will ever find the courage to stop his pulse from jumping when he sees Taeyong, adoration filling him that he does clench his hand over the front of his shirt “Did you ever fulfill it? Becoming the first hero who was happy just like you told me? Fame was something that came with your birth, you took in stride without thinking much of it and when the war was at its peak, you didn’t want to fight when your men didn’t seem to understand your efforts and mocked you,” He chokes on his breath and he covers his mouth to stop it, “You can’t be famous and happy but you still wanted to be the first one.”

The feeling of their held hands, the warmth that came with the fire in his eyes then as he whispered the secret before revealing that the reason was him to make him swear on it had been something that he wished he could have now. A sense of promise between them for better or worse, if only he hasn’t made up his mind already.

“We almost made that promise true. But here we are, in another time and I cannot follow you anymore if I can’t come close to where you’re running to,” there’s a stinging hotness that overcomes his face, numbing until he can feel tears that are just as warm as his skin “It took so long to meet you after death and this is a burden better off mine to bear.”

He kneels close, silent so as to not disturb him and placing a feather-light kiss on the crown of Taeyong’s head. A finality, the last that he will let these thought run rampant enough to control him when he’s unconscious. His feelings are his own and the past mingling together that he wishes to let them simmer down for the sake of everyone.

Men don’t pine-he recalls that line from a movie he chanced upon in his father’s foreign films- because men just suffer. It’s never a pretty thing to discuss his feelings out in the open when it comes with the threat of looking like he can’t deal with them on his own. Complicated, he agrees as understanding only comes when you’re at your breaking point.

“I am not going to break my vow to not fight this time.”

He broke it once at the cost of his life. Now he won’t break it by biting off more than he can chew, letting his heart be hopeful for things that will not come and he’s already in too deep to think about such juvenile wishes.. But the aftermath is the same: Taeyong will lose him still, not that it matters when he doesn’t even remember.

He slept that night without the visions that haunted him for most his life.

Sicheng could finally rest.

…

The prickling feeling of being watched makes his smile waver, hands stilling from where he was waving at the fans as they cheered enthusiastically for their group. Everyone is having fun as the confetti rained down like a shower throughout the stage and Sicheng probably is just being paranoid when he has hundreds of eyes trained on him.

But it’s his gut that tells him to look to the side, to look away from the crowd to find where the intensity is coming from. He follows it, staring at Taeyong who is giving a kind smile that was probably something to reassure him. They’re not next to each other with how they are line up but he can see him leaning forward just to get a good view of him, something that he doesn’t find that odd. They’ve returned to normal now with how Sicheng just minds his own self more and doesn’t think about the things he lost when he can finally sleep undisturbed for months.

Taeyong looks back when the fan scream for his attention, grin wide enough his teeth is sparkling under the lights and Sicheng hums when his heart once again beats a little too fast. He chuckles, letting Jaehyun grab him by the arm to get him closer, whispering something to his ear about how wild everyone was when he sees that Taeyong is looking at him again.

He raises a brow when he catches his gaze, confused because he isn’t used to being subjected to such scrutiny and tilts his head. Taeyong’s eyes are more open, flickering with how they are reflecting under the glow of the strobes scattered that Sicheng doesn’t know what to think. Does he have something on his face?

There’s a flash of emotion that comes across Taeyong’s eyes, making him blink rapidly as if trying to extinguish it before flashing another big smile and getting back to giving the fanservice that the fans were probably capturing with their cameras.

Sicheng shakes his head, ignoring the strange behavior before there something akin to a snapshot that blurs into his thought before melting into nothingness.

The host yells at them, buzzing with the excitement of the whole arena “How do you feel!”

There’s still a cord that hits him when he hears Taeyong tell the host, in a clear voice, steady with his eyes on the crowd but his words ringing as if directed to someone else with his eyes holding so much knowledge that he is afraid.

“I feel like I could eat the world raw.”

Recognition, his eyes screamed and he looks at Sicheng for a moment before it disappears like it was never there.


End file.
